


Flaming June

by Lempo Soi (Lemposoi)



Category: Strangers in Paradise
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Relationship, Character of Color, Community: femmeslash, Drugs, F/F, Female Character of Color, Female Characters, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-16
Updated: 2010-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemposoi/pseuds/Lempo%20Soi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hot. Darcy wants sex. Katchoo provides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flaming June

The summer has been hot as hell, dusty and sweaty, enough to sap the life out of people as well as the grass. The palm trees alone stand tall and defiant against a cloudless sky. The weather report calls it the ideal summer, which just shows that the weather report writers have never had to fix a carborator in Miami during the summer when there are no more working air conditioners left over for the garage.

Veronica says Katchoo's just building up her dyke credentials, but the truth is she likes learning to do something with her hands. There's something beautiful about the interlocking parts of an engine, all small symmetries in a wild tangle. It's been a long time since the last time she painted. She doesn't dare to, these days.

'There you are.' Samantha's even crankier than usual in this weather. 'Mrs Parker wants you. I suggest you shower, though don't be too long.'

'Tell her to wait,' Katchoo says, tightening the last screw, and grins, a quick flash of a smile, at Samantha's shocked silence. 'I'll be right there.'

She shows up in the west patio half an hour later, sweaty, stinking and oily. Darcy sits facing the garden, a shot glass in her perfectly manicured hand. Her shoulders are tight, a storm warning.

'Didn't Samantha make it clear I wanted to see you as soon as possible? Do I need to spank her or spank you?'

'Me, me,' Katchoo mutters with a fair pretension of eagerness. God, she needs a drink. She wishes she was in Hawaii, in the blue waters, washing away her gunk.

'Please, help yourself,' Darcy says, indicating a row of bottles on the patio bar, as if she'd read Katchoo's mind, or at least half of and finally turns to look at her. 'God, you're a mess,' she says with a snort as Katchoo falls upon Jack Daniels as if on the arms of an old friend. 'Remind me again why I pay for your poisons?'

The warmth of the whiskey is warming up Katchoo's belly. She's feeling better already. 'Since you asked nicely,' she says, and picks up the small silver box from a drawer hidden in the bar's oak panelling.

Nobody knows Darcy Parker like Baby June does.

Darcy watches her with a cool detachment Baby knows is masking anticipation, as Baby picks up a black straw and taps cocaine inside, setting it aside on the bar. There are flecks left on her fingers. She licks them clean. Darcy's eyes never leave her tongue as it flicks out.

'Take off your clothes,' she tells Darcy.

See, most of the time Darcy is the one giving the orders. Most of the time, it's that or nothing. Baby June's followed her mistress around in a leather corset, a bad puppy on a leash who'll get her nose thrust into her mess if she leaves a puddle on the parlour floor, but that's just for company. This is different.

'Say please,' Darcy demands.

'You say please,' Baby June says, kneeling between Darcy's knees, stroking them apart. There's a dash of crimson in the black shadows between them, underneath Darcy's little black dress.

'Oh, Baby,' Darcy breathes, giving in at last. 'The things you do to me. All right. Please.'

'That's my girl,' mutters Baby and kisses a knee. She pushes the skirt up and around Darcy's luscious hips. 'Now, the clothes?'

She sits back as Darcy stands to wiggle out of her little black thing, her red bra slashed like a an open wound against her skin. 'Leave it,' Baby instructs her and grabs Darcy's matching panties instead, tugging them off.

There's a rare light breeze, a blessed drop of coolness in the oppressive heat.

'On your fours,' Baby says, her breath catching in her throat. She can already see Darcy's trimmed pussy is swollen with want, and it's not without effect on Baby. When Darcy obeys, laying her flushed cheek on the polished stone, it opens up like an orchid, a dark pink bud brimming with nectar, and Baby just has to dip her fingers in, feel the hot wet softness of it, and god, she wants it, like she wants that coke, like she wants cool blue waters and oblivion. Darcy gasps hopefully, and Baby pulls her fingers put quickly.

'Very pretty you look there,' she mutters, and brings her wet fingers up against Darcy's tightly puckered ass, pressing gently against it, feeling the sphincter convulse. 'Open up. C'mon.'

With a small whimper Darcy does, relaxing just long enough to let Baby June slip her finger in, rolling it around, easing ina second one, until she can force them apart and slip the straw between them. And blow.

Only then does she bring her other hand up to Darcy's cunt, thumb slipping in for a second, catching her clit in its sheath of skin between thumb and forefinger, rolling it, and she had meant to delay it but suddenly she finds her tongue already lashing at Darcy's folds, bitter sex fluid in her mouth, on her nose. Darcy's pushing her sex back against Baby's face like there's no tomorrow, as if she couldn't breathe without Baby's tongue inside her, Baby's fingers teasing her little man out of his boat.

Baby plucks the straw out of her and replaces it with a thumb. She's still sweaty as a pig and stinky and dirty with more than one fluid sprinkled on her 100$ tee, but it doesn't seem so bad now. This is fucking it. This is her dyke point, because nothing could ever quite compare to pussy and she can't imagine--

'Your fist,' Darcy pants. '_Please_.'

Well, she did ask nicely.

Quarter of an hour later, or maybe it's more, Katchoo's smoking a cigarette at the patio and thinking about getting a shower, but thinking more about that broken air conditioner in the garage. The manual's got to be somewhere. How hard can it be?

She does like working with her hands, and a machine she actually has a chance of fixing.

 


End file.
